


you walked all these miles (and now you're in the right place)

by sunsetozier



Series: tumblr prompts [9]
Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: M/M, Prompt Fill, christmas!!!!!!, this goes really in depth with how i hc ben and his family and i love it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-22
Updated: 2018-12-22
Packaged: 2019-09-24 16:27:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17104067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunsetozier/pseuds/sunsetozier
Summary: Then, as if to solidify his realization, the window closest to him rolls down, revealing the very familiar faces of the Denbrough brothers peering at him in confusion, Georgie’s eyes wide and Bill’s lips drawn down in a frown. Ben blinks once, parts his lips to offer a greeting, then promptly seals them shut when he realizes that he’s been caught in quite the situation – one that he’s not sure he can explain. The losers know he has a somewhat strained relationship with his aunt and his cousins, sure, but he’s never gone in depth about his family, about the way they’re viewed, about the way they view him, and he wasn’t really planning on talking about it anytime soon. Thankfully, neither Bill nor Georgie ask any questions, only blinking back at him slowly before the sound of the car doors unlocking fills the still air and Bill simply instructs, “Get in before you freeze to death.”-Ben has a wonderful mother, a judgmental aunt, and horrible cousins. Sometimes, because of that, he needs to go for a walk. Even if it is Christmas Eve, and even if there's a blizzard outside.





	you walked all these miles (and now you're in the right place)

**Author's Note:**

> **tsavoritegem asked:**  
>  Denscom!! Nobody ever remembers Ben's shitty cousins, so what about Ben not having a great time with his family and going to see Bill and an alive Georgie for Christmas.
> 
> i used this opportunity to go super in depth about how i headcanon ben and his family, so whoop! enjoy!

            If there’s one thing Ben wants to make clear, it’s that he loves his mother.

            Arlene Hanscom is a wonderful woman, caring and kind and loving beyond words. She does everything she can to provide for her son, to give him a good childhood, to raise him well, but things got rocky after Ben’s father died and she wasn’t able to care for the two of them on her own. It hadn’t been a drastic change in lifestyle, to be fair – they moved out of their house on Costello Avenue and into his aunt’s house up on Center Street, so it wasn’t like he had to get used to an entirely different town and make new friends, but the changes were still noticeable to him. The house was bigger, for one, but there were more people, giving Ben less space than he was used to. Sure, he got his own room, but his cousins are nosy and tend to barge in without any warning, bugging him and pestering him and making fun of him for stupidly annoying things. Things that don’t matter (things that _shouldn’t_ matter), like the poetry he likes to write, or the way he often gets lost in his daydreams at the dinner table. Things that now bring a bitter taste to Ben’s mouth when he catches himself doing them, knowing full well that he’ll be hearing an earful of teasing words and fingers prodding his side as his cousins laugh and laugh and laugh later on.

            When the losers tease him, it’s light hearted and loving, often making him chuckle along with a fond smile and a roll of his eyes. They poke and prod at him too, but with gentle hands and soft touches, always careful to not cross the line between funny and hurtful. When he thinks of the losers, he thinks of family. When he thinks of his mother, his aunt and his cousins, he thinks of relatives. The two are vastly different in his mind, and that never fails to become evident during the holidays.

            In the Hanscom household, Christmas looks like chaos. His aunt is blind to how his cousins treat him, though he has yet to determine if that’s because she simply hasn’t noticed or because she chooses to ignore it, and while his mother has definitely noticed the whole ordeal, she has long since given up on trying to interfere after being threatened to get kicked out of the house on more than one occasion. Sure, Arlene has a much better job now, one that could easily keep them on her feet, but Ben thinks she’s grown accustomed to living in a full house and is afraid to confront the silence of somewhere different, even more so now that Ben’s graduation is looming six months down the road and he’ll be far from this town come Christmas next year. Ben doesn’t blame her – people often think him and his friends of the definition of chaos, but he can’t imagine not being around them, not having them in his life, and trying to only serves to make him unnecessarily emotional, so he often avoids the idea entirely.

            After nearly a decade of spending Christmas here, Ben feels as though he should be used to it all. He should be used to the way his cousins flaunt their perfect report cards and bathe in the praise that follows whilst giving him the side eye and beaming smugly when the same relatives that had been praising them turn to Ben with the slightest of frowns and ask him what his plans for the future are. He should be used to the way his cousins fight and argue over the most insignificant things once their relatives have left, sounding like toddlers rather than young adults. He should be used to the reminder that, while his cousins are the more actively present issues, the truth is that his whole family seems to do nothing but look at him in some strange, disdained way, like they’re not sure what to make of him. He should be used to the way his aunt watches him make his dinner, eyeing his (still pudgy, yes, but not necessarily large) stomach, and condescendingly asks if he thinks eating so much is a good idea, faux care written over her own selfish concern of how the town perceives the Hanscom’s, sugary sweet voice barely hiding the judgement dripping from every word. They’re the perfect family, that’s what Derry thinks – you want to see real love, check out the Hanscom house and see how much they care for each other! Every last one of them can always be found with a smile on their face and pep in their step!

            And Ben smiles, because that’s what Hanscom’s do, and he tells her she’s right, and he scrapes some of the food off his plate, and he ignores the way her eyes try to tell him that it isn’t enough as he leans in to kiss her cheek and then goes to sit down. During dinner, Arlene sits next to him, and she gives him a grin, but she does not look happy, not truly, a dull reflection of who she had been before Ben’s father passed shining in her gaze as she partakes in conversation and laughs along to every joke that anyone tells. Ben chuckles, just to keep up the front that he’s not simmering with discomfort and loathing, but he thinks they’d looks right over him even if he were blowing an air horn right into their faces.

            Then the yearly Christmas Eve family dinner is over, and people shuffle out the door with content sighs and happy smiles, promising they’ll drive safe on their way home. Only his Great Grandmother lives in Derry (though Ben can’t say he’s ever seen her house), so there’s plenty of small talk about how the hour long journey back to somewhere outside of this town will be tricky, and saying goodbye to everyone takes over an hour to do. When the door clicks shut, Ben can’t help but sigh in relief, wanting nothing more than to climb into bed and sleep this exhaustion away.

            Within thirty seconds of their final relative leaving, however, his cousins begin a screaming match over something that Ben can’t be bothered to understand, something that is not worth fighting over. Just like they did last year, and the year before that, and the year before that. The only difference now is that Ben simply cannot take it anymore – if he gets one more headache from petty arguing, he fears his head might explode, and he’d like to live to where college and dorm rooms and adulthood will take him.

            So, without bothering to think the action through, he shoves his feet into the first pair of shoes that he knows belong to him, and he marches outside, ignoring his mother’s confused call of his name drifting after him. She’ll worry, but she’s too tired to try and stop him or follow him, so he knows better than to speed up or turn around. This isn’t the first time he’s had to get out of the house just to clear his mind and take a break, and it won’t be the last. As much as he hates worrying her like this, he knows she’ll rest easy tonight, and he knows he’ll be back home by the time she wakes up tomorrow morning, and Christmas will go on as usual. He’ll open a few presents, watch his cousins open a few presents, give his mother a new poem he wrote especially for her (she promises she wants nothing more whenever he asks), and he’ll pretend to pay attention to the Christmas movie his aunt puts on screen, and he’ll go to bed counting down the hours until he can see his friends again.

            But for now, it’s not Christmas, it’s the night before, and Ben is walking down the side of the road with his arms crossed over his chest, wishing he had thought to grab a blanket before stomping out into the snow like an idiot. He finds it funny, really – he always reminds the others to be extra sure they have warm clothes on, often lending his own spare sweatshirts and jackets when Stan finally admits to being cold or when Mike decides he needs a second layer. Ben has made it a point to always bring his two favorite hoodies (a plain red one that Eddie bought him, and a really fuzzy black one that Beverly gave him for his birthday last year) because Richie often likes to show up in T-Shirts and Bill claims that his flannels are plenty thick enough to keep him warm. Those two are more stubborn than what should be humanly possible, but even they can’t pretend to be find when there’s a blizzard outside and their lips are turning blue. He thinks it’s ironic that it’s his own stubbornness preventing him from turning around and going home to put on something warmer. Give it a few minutes and he’s sure his lips will be turning blue, too, only his friends aren’t here to provide him warmth and comfort.

            Not his fault that the holidays tend to make them spend less time together, but it makes him irritated nonetheless. If Christmas is supposed to be spent with family then he should be with them. Sometimes he wonders if that makes him a bad person, a bad son. Sometimes he wonders if the person everyone thinks he is, the nice guy with the nice eyes and the nice smile and the nice laugh and the nice words, is nothing from a front for the bad person he fears he may be inside.

            And it’s as he’s thinking about this, brows pinched together and cheeks red from the cold, that a car turns the corner up ahead and a pair of headlights shine directly in his eyes.

            The initial shock of the lights makes his mind go blank, instinctively flinching away and holding a hand up to block the brightness from burning his retinas any further. For a moment, he fears the car may be headed towards him, but then he looks down and finds that he’s a good few feet away from the actual road, and even if the car was driving in his direction, it’s moving so slow because of the ice that he’d have plenty of time to get out of the way. Unsure of what else to do, he simply lowers his hand and squints through the light, angling his head towards the ground and waiting for the car to go by. It isn’t until the vehicle instead comes to a stop besides him that he looks at it again, and without being blinded by the headlights, he can quickly recognize who it belongs to.

            Then, as if to solidify his realization, the window closest to him rolls down, revealing the very familiar faces of the Denbrough brothers peering at him in confusion, Georgie’s eyes wide and Bill’s lips drawn down in a frown. Ben blinks once, parts his lips to offer a greeting, then promptly seals them shut when he realizes that he’s been caught in quite the situation – one that he’s not sure he can explain. The losers know he has a somewhat strained relationship with his aunt and his cousins, sure, but he’s never gone in depth about his family, about the way they’re viewed, about the way they view him, and he wasn’t really planning on talking about it anytime soon. Thankfully, neither Bill nor Georgie ask any questions, only blinking back at him slowly before the sound of the car doors unlocking fills the still air and Bill simply instructs, “Get in before you freeze to death.”

            “Sounds good,” Ben murmurs, if only to offer some semblance of a response as he scrambles forward and pulls the back door open. The heater is already on when he pulls himself inside, and it’s only as the warmth enveloped him that he truly realizes how cold he is, teeth chattering and hands trembling by his sides. He curls his fingers into his palms to form fists in an attempt to stop the shaking, but it doesn’t help but, so he quickly unfurls them and holds them up to the closest heater vent instead.

            From the driver’s seat, Bill glances back at him, brows twitching up before drawing together in some kind of curiosity. Ben offers what he thinks is his normal smile, but it only makes something odd cross over Bill’s features, so it must fall short. Surprisingly, though, Bill doesn’t question anything, only turning forward again and saying, “We’re looking at the houses with lights on them.”

            Georgie nods, and he has a childish glint in his gaze when he looks back at Ben, the same glint that’s been there since he was a kid – the same kid that Ben remembers meeting, the six-year-old with the bright laugh and endless happiness who shook Ben’s hand like they were in a business meeting and then immediately burst into a fit of laughter. Ben’s glad that the childish glint hasn’t faded despite him being a teenager now, hopes that it never goes away, and he can’t help but smile when Georgie grins at him and explains, “It’s tradition. We do it every year.”

            “Cool,” Ben replies, not knowing what else to say, but the word gets caught for a moment behind his still chattering teeth. Wordlessly, Bill reaches forward and turns the heater up, then takes a slow left at the next intersection. Feeling a little bit like an idiot, Ben mumbles a quick, “Thanks, Bill.”

            And Bill throws a small smile over his shoulder, flashes Ben a kind, reassuring look, and breezily tells him, “Don’t mention it, Hanscom. Just enjoy the view.”

            Georgie points out every brightly lit house that they drive by, such raw excitement in his voice that makes it sound like he’s never seen Christmas lights before. Whenever they come across a particularly grand display, Bill slows the car down even more, until they’re practically parked in the middle of the street, and the three of them will spend a few pleasant minutes just appreciating the intricacy of each set up. The entire ordeal is relaxing and calm, a complete opposite to what Ben is used to experiencing during the holiday season, and he almost finds himself falling asleep at multiple points as they make their way through the town. He shakes himself back to full awareness when they turn onto Center Street, and he watches in disdain as they get closer and closer to his house, the front yard looking ominous and bare in comparison to the surrounding houses. They usually put lights up outside a few weeks before Christmas, but he thinks this year has been a little too much for all of the Hanscom’s, for his aunt didn’t put the effort into decorating that she usually does. Originally, he had been thankful for that, because helping his cousins hang up lights outside is one of his least favorite things to do, but now he kind of wishes they’d done it. Now he kind of understands why his aunt is so uptight about how people look at their family, because he can see the way Bill is glancing between him and the barren yard with something unreadable in his eyes, and he hates knowing that there are probably a hundred questions swimming in Bill’s mind that he simply doesn’t want to answer.

            His house gets even closer. With a suppressed sigh of reluctance, he places his hands on the door handle, ready to push it open once Bill slows the car to a stop, another murmur of thanks already forming on the back of his tongue. Bill glances back at him again, his gaze burning holes into Ben’s skin, and presses down on the gas just enough to make them roll forward a little bit faster. Ben watches his house pass by the window with wide eyes and drops his hand back into his lap. When he looks towards the front seat, Bill meets his gaze in the rearview mirror, and he does something very strange. He winks, just slightly, the action so fast and sudden that Ben thinks he may have imagined it, and he takes the next turn and starts heading towards his house. Ben’s lips part around words he can’t think to form, but when Bill offers him a gentle smile, he is helpless to do anything other than smile back.

            The Denbrough house is calm and quiet when he follows Bill and Georgie inside, feeling almost like an intruder as he looks around at the warm lights and hears the gentle crooning of Frank Sinatra coming from a record player placed in the corner of the living room. He’s been here plenty of times before, at various sleepovers and get togethers with the other losers, but he’s realizing now that he’s never been to Bill’s house without at least one of his other friends with him, about something about that makes him feel a little vulnerable, a little unsure. Without meaning to, he slows to a stop in the entryway of the living room, sinking his teeth into his lower lip and trying to shake away the feeling that he should turn around and leave, that he isn’t welcome here when it’s only him.

            “You can sit,” Bill tells him, and he says it casually, but when Ben focuses his eyes enough to meet his gaze, he can see that Bill is looking at him like he’s a puzzle yet to be solved. Sticking out a hand to gesture vaguely towards the couch, Bill adds, “Georgie still has a bed time—”

            “Which is bullshit,” Georgie cuts in with a grumble, arms crossed over his chest and brows pinched together in some kind of half-hearted glare, the action oddly reminiscent of how Bill often huffed in annoyance at the simplest of things back in middle school. Ben almost laughs at the sight.

            _“But,”_ Bill goes on with a light chuckle, “our parents don’t actually care about that during winter break, so we were gonna watch some movies and stuff for a while, if you want to join us for that.” He lifts a single shoulder in some kind of shrug, not exactly timid but definitely a little wary, in a way. Perhaps cautious is a better word, but Ben isn’t sure what there is for Bill to be cautious about. In a different tone of voice, Bill offers, “Or I could drive you home. Whatever’s best.”

            For a long moment, Ben ponders this. He should go home, he knows – before his mother really starts to worry, before his aunt makes a snide a comment about how her kids never run off like this. Before him needing a break from his family creates a bigger problem then what it’s worth. The right thing to do is ask for that ride home, thank Bill for not letting him freeze to death in the blizzard, and let that be that. It’s the obvious choice to make.

            Georgie let’s out an impatient noise. “He’s staying,” he answers for Ben, turning to look at Bill expectantly. “Now can we please make the hot chocolate already? My entire body is fucking frozen.”

            “You’re not allowed to hang out with us when Richie’s around anymore,” Bill murmurs, looking both amused and genuinely distressed by his little brother’s fowl language. Unable to help it, Ben lets out a little laugh, meeting Bill’s gaze with raised brows. There’s no use fighting a determined Denbrough, after all. Thankfully, Bill seems to understand that Ben is agreeing to Georgie’s decision and smiles, bobbing his head in a nod before gesturing vaguely towards the kitchen as he says, “I’ll be right back, then. Georgie gets first pick for the movie, but you can get comfortable.”

            Wordlessly, Ben nods, taking a seat on the sofa and trying not to feel too out of place as Bill offers him one more smile before disappearing into the kitchen and Georgie plops himself on the floor to flip through the movie options and set up his first pick of the night.

            Despite his initial uneasiness and uncertainty, the night progresses with ease, Ben relaxing slowly throughout the first movie until his knees are pulled up to his chest and he’s sipping as his cup of hot chocolate happily. Georgie tries to stay awake, if only for the sake of not looking as young as he still is, but he’s out halfway through the second film, curled up on the other end of the couch with his head lulled to the side, barely audible snores falling from his parted lips. Bill lets out a huff of a laugh when he sees that Georgie’s asleep, then quickly dismisses himself to grab a couple blankets. One of them a carefully put on Georgie to keep him warm, while the other is cautiously draped over Ben and Bill’s laps to keep them comfortable, both of them oddly silent as Bill settles back into his seat and picks up his mug, attention assumedly returning to the movie.

            Until Ben notices that Bill is actually glancing at him. Like, a lot. And he keeps glancing at him with his unreadable eyes, to the point that Ben thinks he’s going to go insane, until he finally speaks.

            “Why were you out there, Ben?”

            It’s a question that should have been asked sooner, Ben knows, so he’s not sure why hearing it makes his freeze, but for a solid thirty seconds he can’t remember how to breathe. Bill is only watching him now, the television forgotten, one hand reaching forward to settle gently on his knee in a comforting gesture when Ben finally inhales deeply, shakily. “Needed to get out of the house,” is all he says.

            Bill’s brows pinch together, gaze flickering over Ben’s features in uncertainty and confusion. “Why?” he pushes, though his tone stays gentle, asking rather than demanding for a proper explanation.

            With some kind of shrug, Ben slowly answers, “Because being at home can be too much sometimes.” He takes in another deep breath, lets it out in a huff, and decides not to beat around the bush, explaining, “My mom and I don’t really belong in my family, I don’t think. Hanscom’s are… happy, all the time, you know? We’re supposed to be great and perfect no matter what, and we… my mom never properly grieved my dad’s death, and I definitely don’t fit into their idea of perfect. My aunt and her kids, though, they’re the definition of the perfect Hanscom, all thin and perfect grades and a great job, and living with them… it’s not… it doesn’t really work, and it’s hard to pretend it does.”

            “You mean the same cousins who give you shit in the hallways at school?” Bill questions, lips tugging down in a frown, his jaw setting in an almost protective sort of way. “The cousins who are complete assholes to you all the time? _Those_ cousins are considered perfect in your family, but _you_ aren’t? That’s complete bullshit!”

            On Bill’s other side, Georgie shifts in his sleep, clearly disturbed by Bill’s raised volume, causing the two of them to freeze and watch to make sure they didn’t wake him up. After a moment, Georgie settles again, and Ben softly tells Bill, “I’m not upset about not fitting in my family, so you don’t need to worry about that. I’m just… tired of living with them when they clearly want me to be someone who I’m not, but I’ve been doing it since I was eleven, and there’s only six more months until I leave for college. I’ll fine, honestly. It’s not a big deal.”

            “Then why did you need to get out of the house?” Bill presses, though he makes sure to keep his voice down this time, neither of them wanting to wake Georgie up when he’s sleeping so peacefully. “If it wasn’t a big deal, then why did you voluntarily go out in a blizzard? You could get hypothermia out there, Ben.”

            Which is a very fair question, Ben realizes. The only way he can think to answer is, “It really isn’t a big deal. Sometimes I just need a break, and I didn’t know where to go, so I just started walking.”

            Bill doesn’t really sigh, but he lets out a breath loud enough that is sounds like a sigh, and Ben almost feel guilty unloading this, but it’s the first time he’s ever really gotten it off his chest and the relief overpowers the bitter taste in the back of his throat. Besides, his hot chocolate is sweet enough to wash away the bitterness, so he doesn’t try to apologize for this – especially since he knows Bill will insist there’s absolutely nothing to apologize for. Still, to prevent himself from blurting out some kind of attempt at a sorry, he lifts his mug to his lips with the intention to take a sip.

            The mug is taken from his hands before he gets the chance to.

            “If you need a break,” Bill says calmly, leaning forward to place Ben’s mug on the coffee table, as well as his own, “then you come here.” He leans back, twists his body to face Ben fully, their knees knocking together, and states. “If you ever want to get away, you come here. If you even just want to come here for the hell of it, then you come here. And for Christmas, you can call your mom and she can come here, too, because there’s no way in hell you’re spending it with people who treat you like shit.”

            Ben feels his mouth part around words he can’t quite form yet, brows shooting up and eyes going a little wide. He struggles to think of a response before shaking his head helplessly, weakly protesting, “I can’t- not on _Christmas,_ Bill. Your parents—”

            “Don’t give a fuck,” Bill finishes quickly. “And if they do, then they’ll just have to deal with it.” He puts his hand on Ben’s knee again, both his other hand goes a little higher, first on his shoulder but then sliding up to settle against the curve of his neck. In a pleading sort of tone, eyes wide and begging, he says, “Please, Ben? You don’t deserve that shit, and all we do here is open some gifts and lounge around all day. You wouldn’t be getting in the way of anything, and I know we’ll be nicer to you and your mom than your shitty aunt and stupid cousins are.”

            “Bill, I don’t…” Ben trails off, shaking his head again and trying to think of a way to take this back. Some comfort he would have accepted, but being invited in on Christmas day? That’s too much. Ben isn’t worthy of that kind of generosity, but Bill is looking at him like he’s worthy of that and so much more, and any attempt at a response dies in the back of his throat when Bill gently starts to brush his thumb over the skin on his neck in an absentminded kind of way, most likely not even aware that he’s doing it at all. And he realizes something then, with a dizzying sort of clarity.

            He realizes that Bill Denbrough is easily the best person he has ever met, and likely one of the best people he ever will meet. He realizes that Bill never fails to calm his nerves and treat him with a gentle care without making him feel fragile or weak. He realizes that Bill looks at him like he’s both the source of the soft feeling in his chest and the foundation of the strength within his bones. He realizes that he’s been wasting a lot of time the past seven years that they’ve known each other, convincing himself that he only looks at Bill as a friend and nothing more.

            “Bill,” he says again, but it comes out a little watery and unstable, and Bill looks panicked for a moment at the sight of Ben’s eyes filling with tears, but Ben surges forward and presses their lips together before he can ask what’s wrong.

            At first, it’s a little awkward and clumsy, Bill too caught off guard to reciprocate and Ben’s nerves making him want to withdraw immediately, but then Bill leans into him a little bit more, and the moment turns a little bit sweeter, and Ben feels things click in his mind like a switch has been flipped. It seems obvious now, the way Bill shines in his mind like no one else does. He wonders how he had gone so long unaware to something that’s blatantly been there for who knows how long.

            When Bill pulls back, he looks a little reluctant, but he also looks overjoyed. Ben feels slightly dizzy looking at the way he grins, thumb still gently brushing over Ben’s skin like a grounding point. He breathes in sharply, feels his heart stutter, and grins back blissfully.

            Voice soft, Bill asks, “You’ll stay?” And he asks it in a way that promises there won’t be hard feelings if Ben says no, that if Ben chooses to go home then the two of them will be just fine, but Ben can’t imagine up and leaving after a moment like this. He’s not sure his mother will be too happy to wake up Christmas morning with a mere call from him inviting her to the Denbrough’s, but that’s okay. Even if she doesn’t say so, she understands that Ben isn’t exactly happy at home.

            Ben offers the slightest of nods, gaze flickering back and forth between Bill’s eyes and stomach twisting with hundreds of thousands of butterflies, and breathes, “Of course I’ll stay.”

**Author's Note:**

> let me know what you think, and feel free to hmu on tumblr @ lo-v-ers !!


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